Happy 2015!

Merry Christmas!

Why is my child crying...

Because his hot dog "broke".

(The bun really just cracked and fell apart, but - at this age - a 

broken hot dog is right up there with the end of the world.)

Popping in to say HI...

Hi'a.

Just popping in briefly to let everyone know that I'm still alive.  Things are good.  My brother got engaged to a great girl (Hi, CEO) over Thanksgiving, and Banner is rocking the big boy pants.  He is even waking up dry some mornings.  I know, I know...my mind is blown.  I guess I figured potty training would take longer or be more of a struggle than it has been (I'm not kidding when I say THIS was the worst of it).  Someone told me it would click when he was ready, and I supposed that's really true.

And, yes, I am fully aware that I just jinxed myself my writing that down.  All the more so since we have a brand spankin' new sand colored couch arriving on Tuesday.

As for me, I've been trying my best to open up to those closest to me.  2014 has been a hard year - not just for me, but for many that I know and love - and I've really appreciated all your thoughts and prayers.  My fingers are crossed for good things in 2015.  I'm not sure I can see the light at the end or the proverbial tunnel yet, but at least I'm starting to optimistically believe that there might be one.  Baby steps, right?

In other news, I would just like to come out and say that I think the whole Elf on the Shelf thing is completely creepy.  And I don't mean that as a slight to anyone who does it.  Power to you if you do.  It is just that I've been tricked into seeing movies like CHUCKY since I was little (I somehow avoided seeing Annabelle this fall, but that sh*t is bound to come out on demand sooner or later), and I can think of nothing more disturbing than voluntarily bringing a doll into your home that moves around on its own volition, disappears randomly and causes mischief.  Mischief, might I add, that I will presumably have to clean up.

Plus, the d@mn thing has mitts for hands.  MITTS!

No thank you!

Trevor, of course, completely disagrees.  He is willing to sacrifice our safety in order to bribe our child to behave for three weeks in December.  It is obviously a good thing I'm around to stop him.  FOR ALL OUR SAKES.

Happy weekend, y'all, and enjoy all the back posts. 

50 random Bannerisms...

1. Almost always says his favorite number is "eleventeen" and color "geen" (green).
2. Thinks all football teams are the Dallas Cowboys.
3. Is currently a camo belt in karate.
4. Loves all things lollipop and ice-cream (because duh).
5. Will randomly tell you that he is feeling "awesome".
6. Still sleeps in a crib (he tried to climb out and fell over a year ago, and has never attempted to escape since).
7. Knows Peter Parker is really Spiderman.
8. Prefers to wear his underwear backwards so the picture of Spiderman is on the front.
9. Desperately wants a bike.
10. Still obsessed with sushi, edamame and raw ginger and requests it for dinner at least once a week.
11. Almost never puts his shoes on the wrong feet.
12. Always gets three dog cookies out of the treat jar when we are leaving.  One for each member of the Awesome Pawsome.
13. Asks if Haskell is a girl despite being told repeatedly that Haskell is a boy (poor Haskell).
14. Thinks all things train, plane, tractor and automobile are the best ever.
15. Gives the BEST hugs, kisses and snuggles.
16. Calls milk boxes "juice".
17. Doesn't like cheese.
18. Can't wait to go to swim class.
19. Frequently asks me if "mama need more coffee?"
20. Sometimes fakes a cough to get a teaspoon of honey before bed.
21. Insists on zipping up his own coat, and buckling himself into his carseat.
22. Tells the dogs to "walk away" when they try to steal his food (Gypsy is the worst.  She's old and just doesn't care if she gets caught).  Related: calls CEO's dog, Pilgrim, "Wigwam".
23. Loves pickles.
24. Believes burping and "pooting" to be the very pinnacle of hilarity.
25. Whenever he sees string lights anywhere, says "Look!  Christmas!"
26. Is terrified of Santa and the Easter Bunny, but LOVED it when Clifford the Big, Red Dog visited his school.
27. Speaks in complete sentences and is usually very observant.
28. Thinks all snowmen are "happy".
29. Can't wait to move up to pre-school so he can play with his buddy, Charlie.
30. Loves to flush the toilet, but is frequently scared of the flush.
31. Can be bribed into smiling for a picture if someone faux hits someone else or pretends to throw up (ah, boys).
32. Is always asking to use mama's "Wapstick" (chapstick).
33. Says his favorite animal is the "horsey".
34. Loves books.
35. Bites his nails.
36. Uses a blanket as a "pillow" every night.
37. Is still a little iffy on his colors.
38. Likes to blow out candles.
39. Is utterly confused (and angry!) when the moon is up during the day.
40. Never misses an opportunity to splash in a puddle.
41. Prefers to eat muffins or waffles in the morning before school.
42. Will say, "Look, mama!  That's a pretty park over there!" whenever we pass a playground.
43. Asks to go to the "alley-eat-um" (arboretum), ranch and the "Durango house" constantly.
44. Fights bedtime with ploys like "I need water", "I need to go to potty" and "I need another hug" every single night.
45. Always prefers to be outside.
46. Refers to his home as "Banner's house".
47. Loves to have his hair brushed at school.  Related:  Has repeatedly told me that he "no like Amelia" and "Amelia no my friend".  Which is hard to understand since Amelia is adorable, very sweet...and well, (a young) two.  I've tried to get to the bottom of it, so much so that he now whispers "I no like Amelia" to himself when he sees her down the hall in the hopes I won't hear it and question him about her again.  I guess you don't have to like everyone in the world, but this is the first time we've added person to the same category as cheese (which the little weirdo also doesn't like). 
48. Generally wakes up between 6:30 and 7 AM every morning.  No matter if he stays up late the night before or skips his afternoon nap.
49. Is very stressed out by falling leaves.  Says "Oh, no!" with alarm, and always wants to know what happened and why they fell.
50. Believes his name to be "Banner Winkle".

Thanksgiving (mostly in pictures)...

Thanksgiving 2014 followed a similar pattern to last year, except we didn't run the Turkey Trot (I know:  lazy a$$es).  The day began with lunch at Brook Hollow with Mimi, Bud, Ann and Harriet followed by dinner with Gram, Pop-Pop and Uncle Spencer.    Then, still in a turkey coma, we drove to the ranch bright and early Friday morning for Thanksgiving Part III.

Banner insisted on wearing his bike helmet for about 2/3rds of the three hour car ride that morning, because - as he so eloquently put it - "safety first".  Eventually, the novelty wore off, though, and the little guy was content to "read" his books for the remainder of the journey.  Thank goodness he packed a bunch!

The real reason we got such an early start Friday morning was because we were privy to a secret.  Namely, that my brother was (finally!) going to pop the question to his girlfriend, CEO, on top of the peak.  

(Spoiler alert:  She said "yes!")

Squeeee!  Congrats, you two!

The rest of the weekend was filled with family, good food, lots of tractor rides, two glorious trips to Eve's and hikes around the ranch.  No wonder it is one of Banner's favorite places.  Just looking at the following images makes me relaxed and happy.  Nothing beats late fall in the Texas Hill Country.  It is a magical place.

Here are some of my favorite pics from the weekend:

 

Anna's Army...

My other family.

One of my best friends, Anna, was diagnosed with breast cancer back in May.  I won't talk too much about it here.  It is, after all, her story, but a Jac, Kes and I got to join her parents and boyfriend up in New York for her third chemo session in late October. 

The trip was a bit of a whirlwind.  We all arrived on a Saturday and left Tuesday, which is sort of a random time to go anywhere.  But it totally worked.  We even had time to go to the Today Show with signs supporting Anna's Army, and for Jac and I to accidentally end up on an express train to Harlem.  Because of course that happened.

Looking a little rough on the subway (coming back from Harlem),
but - to be fair - Kes had us up at 5:30 that morning.

(Jac and I have been besties since our first day of high school, and so far we have twenty years of misadventures to keep us entertained in our old age.  She won't remember them, but that's why I'm around.  ;P )

As for Anna, she's always been like a second little sister to me.  Jac and I used to babysit her when she was little, and she was in my wedding.  I'm so proud of how well she's been doing (can you imagine a cancer diagnosis?  At 25?).  She's handled the last six months with a strength and grace well beyond her age.

It makes me so grateful, that - even after all these years (or maybe because of all these years?) - we can still get together, regardless of the distance and circumstances, and laugh like we've never been apart.  True, there were tears that weekend in NYC.  How could there not be with cancer being the reason for this particular reunion?  But there was significantly more laughter.  And isn't that always the best medicine?

Stay strong, Little Bonzi!

Note:  I'm posting this on November 17th - the date of Anna's fourth and final chemo treatment. 

Potty Training Confessional...

Y'all.  Potty training?  It isn't for the faint hearted.

This past weekend was our first foray into a brave new world without pull ups.  I've been prepared for weeks.  In late September, I ordered the Ban Man about 20 pairs of big boy undies with all his favorite things on the front (Spiderman, Superman, Thomas the Train...you know, the usual suspects), and waited for the appropriate time to start using them.  And October did not disappoint, either.  Banner has made spectacular progress over the last six weeks when it comes to all things potty, so I really wasn't all that surprised when his teacher asked if we could "give the big boy pants a 'go' this weekend" to, you know, see how it went.

And, honestly, I was impressed.  True THIS HAPPENED on Saturday night, but really no harm no foul:

Until Monday, that is. 

Apparently, when it comes to using the potty, Banner is all or nothing.  He will dutifully do his business in the potty all day if he feels like it.  If not, meh...he doesn't seem to care if he is wet or sitting in a puddle.

Except I do.  Especially when that puddle is on my couch.  Twice.  In less than fifteen minutes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The thing is, we had been doing SO.WELL.  Saturday and Sunday were AWESOME, and I was feeling optimistic about our chances of being out in public without a pull up (I know, famous last words, right?!).  So, I took him out for a celebratory sushi lunch (his favorite) after swim class on Monday.  A meal that just happened to coincide with Banner deciding that the whole potty thing was completely overrated.

It didn't start out that way, though.  He peed in the potty like a champ three or four times after swim class - including TWICE at the restaurant.  My confidence was up, and my guard was down.  The food arrived, and Banner started shoveling avocado rolls in his mouth like he hadn't eaten for days. 

Which is, of course, when it happened:

Banner:  "Mama, Banner sittin' in a puddle."

And, sure enough, he was.  Did he care about it?  No.  Just scooted over and picked up another avocado roll from his plate completely unfazed.  He might as well have been commenting on the weather. 

Me, on the other hand, went into crisis mode.  Because that is what you do when you are on a lunch date in public with your two year old son on his third day in underwear, and suddenly discover him sitting in a pool of his own urine. 

Since the restaurant was crowded, I didn't want to make a scene.  So, instead, I surveyed the situation and tried to breathe:

• No one, except me (and technically Banner), was aware of what just happened.
• Thanks to the color of Banner's pants, they didn't even look wet.  They were, in fact soaked through, but you'd never know it just by looking at them.
• We were sitting on a wood bench (Thank God).
• Thanks to an earlier spill, we had a bunch of extra black, fabric napkins.
• Both of us were almost done with our meal.

You see where this is going?

If not, this is the point where I confess.  Be forewarned, however, that my coworker thinks I've done "the most horrible thing".  I say desperate times, desperate measures.

I discretely cleaned up the puddle using the extra napkins, while - simultaneously - finishing my California rolls (so no one watching would suspect anything).  I also grabbed a handful of ice from my water glass and tossed the cubes on the bench next to the wet napkins.  When the waitress came by, I told her Banner had spilled his water again.  She brought more napkins over, and I did my best to wrap the damp ones around the dry ones.  Then I moved the entire bundle into the sun, because the original puddle was...well, warm, and I didn't want anyone to suspect that the majority of the liquid was anything other than spilled water.  When the waitress returned, I hastily paid for our meal, tipped her very well and GOT THE EFF OUT OF THERE.

I know, I know.  Judge away!  I'm 100% guilty!

Personally, I feel like this story PALES in comparison to a similar one from my youth.  And since I'm telling this particular story about Banner, it is only right and fair that I share one from my own childhood.

I was about nine months old when my parents took me with them on a trip to Europe.  Apparently, I discovered pear juice somewhere along the way.  Unfortunately said juice did not agree with me, and...well, to quote my father I "blew my diaper off" at some cute, little restaurant in France.  He even has a video taken immediately after the incident occurred so he and my mother could immortalize it and bring it up from time to time throughout my childhood, because that's the kind of people they are.

Except the video clip, oddly enough (or not so oddly if you know my dad), ended with him getting distracted by his sudden need to "document" the slew of topless sunbathers he stumbled upon mere moments after zooming in on me in my mother's arms and taking a close up of the restaurant I had just disgraced.  This segue (or lack thereof) to early 80s European boobies has shocked, awed and confused people for years.  Including Trevor, who - after seeing the clip for the first time thirteen some odd years ago (THANKS, DAD!!) thought he was seeing a video my father shot of ME sunbathing topless on a beach in France.  Which, NO.  No, no, no, no, NO!  For SO many reasons NO!  It was almost a relief to clarify that I was the adorable nine month baby who just crapped herself at the restaurant across the street from a beach full of partially naked women.

(Note:  my father also showed this very same video to a movie theater FULL of people a decade and a half ago during a party in my honor.  Because of course he did.  And - even better - PEOPLE STILL REMEMBER SEEING IT.)

But I digress.

When I so unceremoniously exploded post pear juice, nothing was spared.  Including the chair cushion I was sitting on.  My parents, having just paid, looked at the situation in horror, and - not wanting to own up to what just happened - flipped the chair cushion over and fled like the building was on fire.

Not that my situation on Monday was much better, but at least I tipped well.  Even if I have no European boobies to show for it.

End of confession.